H.M. Travis

Words released me now they unleash me; from nowhere they reach me in an effort to teach me.
Words, my redemption my over zealous temptress; my calm, my storm, my in-between, my indifference.
Words my identity embraces my enemy; calms my calamity, succumbs not to humanity.
Words determine by choice, can silence a voice; if not be as crucial to exult or anoint.
Words I expel as each breath is exhaled; between Heaven and Hell, jail cells, and old wives tales.
Words create, tempt fate, test faith, and intimidate; without them my very essence deteriorates.
Words are driven yet complacent, as well worn as a pavement; incoherent if you dare to indoctrinate word enslavement.
Words begin and end, masquerade and pretend; they dissolve upon contact yet are mentioned again.
Words are analytical, detrimental, and unceremoniously critical; the very constitution of my words paper can be cynical.
Bur, these are my words..


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